


Role Reversal

by safi



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fever, I love this trope idc, Sick Steve Harrington, Sickfic, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Vomit, a lil cursing, and a lil puking, caring kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 10:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safi/pseuds/safi
Summary: Steve is not one to admit defeat, even with a fever of 103.The kids make sure their babysitter is okay, because what else are friends for?





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> sorry my summary is trash that's kind of just who I am I guess :,)
> 
> also I promise I am going to write for other fandoms I just love this trope to death and I've gotten a bunch of tumblr prompts to write for Steve. (sickysaf on tumblr- i accept prompts!)
> 
> all mistakes are mine bc I wrote this oc quick and am too lazy to edit it

Like most things in his life, it started small.

A barely there ache. A little congestion.

Almost all of his time was dedicated to not flunking out of school, keeping up a somewhat normal appearance in front of his parents, and practically saving the entire universe as he knew it.

So, yeah, in the grand scheme of shit happening in his life right now, the ache that had slowly taken residence in his bones was one of the first things to brush off. The sensation was simply a product of how downright exhausted he was.

He was getting less than four hours of sleep every night and when he did manage to nod off, nightmares of the stupid demogorgon mauling his friends and family were inescapable.

This night was no different. Steve lay facing his window and watched droplets of rain roll down the glass. It was 2:17 in the morning and he began to realize that brushing off the aches was really coming back to bite him in the ass.

Because really. When could anything ever be easy in his life.

As the hours passed and the rain pattered on, Steve’s body began to ache with a ferocity that rivaled the time Billy beat the shit out of him. His head began to pound to the beat of his heart and someone in his house must’ve turned the AC on because he was so cold it was maybe going to be a problem.

But he was Steve Harrington. He could fight off weird possessed dog things and protect kids and have good hair while doing so. He might be a little sick, but the things in his life could absolutely not wait for him to curl up in bed for a few days.

He wrapped another blanket around himself, because dear god it was cold as balls, took and deep breath, and closed his eyes. He’d be fine.

—

He was not fine. Really, incredibly, horribly not fine.

He lay still and took a full inventory of just how not fine he was: his head hadn’t improved since last night, it was now a fun mixture of freezing and burning in his house, and the smells of breakfast coming from downstairs had his stomach rolling.

But there were things to do that day. It was a rainy Friday and he wished more than anything to roll over and go back to sleep, but he had a huge test in chemistry and had to babysit the kids that evening.

Neither of those things could be pushed off, so with a groan and a touch of self-pity, he got dressed for the day. He grabbed a bottle of medicine, a pack of tissues, and a thermometer before sneaking out of the back door so his parents wouldn’t see. He couldn’t take any chances.

—

School was literal hell. He definitely failed that test- the equations swirled before his eyes and the sweat beading on his face was more distracting than he was willing to admit.

Kids were actively avoiding him because he looked 100% like the undead, but Steve give a shit. He sat with his head in his arms, just hoping to make it through his last period. There were less than 20 minutes left and god, he felt sick.

When he checked his temperature during lunch it was creeping up towards 102, which even he knew was not great.

20 minutes and then he could pass out on a couch while the kids did whatever the hell they wanted. As long as they didn’t die it was whatever at this point.

The bell rang and he was finally, finally released from educational purgatory. Black dots assaulted is vision when he stood, and the cold medicine he took in lieu of an actual lunch was sitting a little weird in his stomach.

He was fine.

—

“You look like deep-fried ass, Steven,” a voice greeted him when he entered Hopper’s cabin. He huffed out a laugh as he shook the raindrops from his hair and made a beeline for the couch.

“You’re a doll, Maxine, and don’t let anyone tell you different,” Steve said. The redhead and Dustin were sitting on the couch and he just couldn’t kind the energy to tell them to scram before bonelessly sinking into the couch.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s definitely going to pass out in the next five minutes. The day has caught up with him and he should probably take his temp and more medicine but sweet Jesus, it should be illegal for his body to hurt this much everywhere.

He feels Dustin shift closer and cracks an eye open. He hears a whisper of ‘what about dinner’ from one of the others whose voice he can’t seem to place because his headache has decided to shift into migraine territory, which is pretty rude of it.

Right. Food.

He has to feed the kids, and then maybe they’ll let him pass out.

Thankfully, there’s some pizza in Hopper’s fridge and El quietly helps him microwave enough to feed everyone. Her eyes flit over his appearance nervously, and she is obviously confused by how awful he looks.

His throat stings and his voice is starting to go, so he doesn’t want to risk it and simply gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It’s probably a grimace.

They bring the plates out to the living room and to Steve’s surprise, there’s a pillow on the couch and all of the kids are keeping themselves busy on the floor.

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” Steve croaks as they dig into the pizza. He gratefully falls onto the couch. Did being horizontal always feel this heavenly?

Dustin came over and pulled a blanket over Steve and slips a thermometer under Steve’s tongue. Steve sees Will measuring out some NyQuil and pliantly takes it after Dustin takes the thermometer out.

He really shouldn’t be letting them take care of him. He knows how weak he looks. It’s more than embarrassing.

He can’t find it in him to care, though.

“Go to sleep, Steve,” Dustin says as the others lower the lights to watch a movie. “Your fever is high but my mom always says sleep is the best medicine.”

Well then. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He closes his eyes, and is out before the opening credits end.

—

“Hey guys? He kinda looks, um, green?”

“What? Hey, Steve? Dude wake up.”

He blinks awake to heat.

Steve can’t quite remember how he got here. It’s dark and he’s so, so hot.

He’s also going to puke. Right now.

He leans over the edge of the couch and retches, thankfully with nothing coming up yet. There are kids screaming and he remembers where he is. He’s most definitely the worst babysitter ever.

Vomiting his guts out, however, trumps his concern over his current babysitting abilities. Thankfully, someone has the mind to grab a bucket and his next gag is contained by a blue plastic bin.

He hasn’t eaten all day, which really doesn’t make this process any more enjoyable because apparently his stomach wants to kill him from the inside out anyway. He vomits mouthfuls of bile and notices a small hand holding the bucket while another is holding back his hair.

His nose burned from the stomach acid and his mouth tasted like something crawled in there and died. He felt empty enough but nausea rolled through him in waves.

“Take a breath, Steve, you’re okay. I think. I don’t really know what to do,” Max’s voice speaks from above. She must be the one holding his hair.

“What do we do?” Dustin sounds from his left, taking away the bucket to the kitchen for a rinse. The kids had been set into motion when he woke up puking, splitting instantly to find something to help their babysitter.

Mike and El grab paper towels and a mop to soak up the vomit on the floor, Will and Lucas retrieve a thermometer and new blankets, and Dustin returns with a glass of ginger ale.

He really didn’t deserve these kids.

“Don’t worry about that, Mike,” Steve croaked as the kid began to place paper towels on the floor. “I should be the one to clean that up, it’s my mess.”

Mike just rolled his eyes and continued to clean.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Harrington. Let us take care of you just this once.”

—

The thermometer blinked an ominous 103.9, and Steve was only aware of his surroundings in fragments.

He was burning. Flames lapped at his consciousness and threatened to turn him to ash. The only thing keeping him grounded was the murmur of worried kids and a cold cloth wiping his forehead.

Nearly every 20 minutes he would emptily retch over the bucket, never bringing up more than a few streams of acid.

If he hadn’t been fine before, this was definitely the farthest from fine he could possibly be.

\---

Hours passed. When he would wake up, he was greeted by a worried middle schooler offering him water or a new washcloth. It seemed like they were taking shifts on Keeping Steve Alive Duty™, and however embarrassing he would find this in the morning, Steve was incredibly grateful.

As the sun began to lighten the horizon, Steve blinked awake for the first time without feeling seconds away from death by fever.

He was sticky with dried sweat and desperately needed a mint, but alive. And curled around him in one big dog pile were the stupid, caring, crazy kids he had grown to love like siblings.

He stood shakily, waking the pile. They hugged him in relief and began animatedly talking about how they thought he had the plague.

Steve smiled. He loved protecting these kids, and now he knew they loved him too.

He popped some Eggos in the toaster, and knew they’d all be alright.


End file.
